


Obsession

by ashes_of_roses (KendraLuehr)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark Will Graham, F/M, Kidnapping, May/December Relationship, Obsessive Behavior, Older Man/Younger Woman, Stockholm Syndrome, in which will is the copycat killer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraLuehr/pseuds/ashes_of_roses
Summary: Dark!AU. Will has been watching Abigail for weeks, cultivating his obsession like a fertile, noxious seed. When he finally finds the proper moment to strike, he abducts her and forces her to live at his farm house, closed off from any influences other than his own. With Abigail's sanity at stake, will she be able to save herself, or will she ultimately succumb to the dark mind of the Copycat Killer?





	1. Longing

He’d been watching her for twelve days. Twelve _long,_ agonizing days of observation, but no contact. He couldn’t allow himself the pleasure. Not yet. If he immersed himself in her life, he would be at the very top of the Bureau’s list of suspects. He’d been in the field long enough to know that.

So now, as he stood peering at Abigail through the slots of a library shelf, Will tongued the corner of his mouth and watched her flip through a book – a battered, dog-eared mystery novel, from the looks of it. _You are what you read._

Smiling thinly, Will’s eyes fell to Abigail’s sweater and the large, flirty cut-out between her shoulder blades, the design baring the straps of her camisole that she wore underneath. It was impractical for winter – wholly intoxicating, too. With her pale flesh came the memories of his _own_ kills, all made in her honor. Hobbs had been right to revere her.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Will stiffened, immediately pretending to peruse the shelves.

Abigail looked up and smiled, now talking quietly to a librarian. He supposed his time for observation was over.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve been preoccupied lately, Will. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Will absently clutched the armrests of his chair, his right foot jiggling as he peered back into Alana Bloom’s kind, concerned blue eyes. “I’m fine,” he said. “Really.”

“Well, there must’ve been _some_ reason why you asked for me instead of Dr. Lecter… What couldn’t he fix?”

“Dr. Lecter wasn’t a good fit,” Will shortly said, his shoulders lifting. Or more aptly put, he could sense his own kind in Hannibal. It wouldn’t be wise for the two of them to interact. Deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder if Hannibal had sensed it too.

“Besides, wasn’t it _you_ who said association with Abigail Hobbs wasn’t a good idea? I believe it’s the same for Dr. Lecter, seeing how we were both there that day.”

“Trauma bonding can be healthy,” Alana hesitantly allowed, “but Abigail doesn’t seem well enough for certain stimuli.”

Will sighed through his nose. “I guess you’re right. I don’t want to cause an unexpected breakdown, so I’ll just…I’ll stay away.”

“A wise decision.” Crossing her legs, Alana added, “Are you still having nightmares?”

“A little.”

“Would you like to discuss them?”

Will gazed at a nameless point of interest over Alana’s shoulder, his mouth twisting as he shifted in his seat. “Each time I dream, I can’t save her… Abigail always bleeds out before I can get my hands around her throat.”

Alana folded her own hands. “That’s a perfectly normal response, Will. It’s just your mind’s way of processing what did and what _could_ have happened.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Find something new to fixate yourself on – learn a new hobby, perhaps. Just whatever you do, _don’t_ visit Abigail Hobbs. You need to hold off on that for both your sakes.”

Will’s lips curled into a lopsided smile. “Consider it done.”

 

* * *

 

Abigail had jumped the wall again. Even though she usually stayed close to Port Haven, she found herself wandering aimlessly that afternoon, her hands in her pockets as her mind buzzed with the inevitable: _you’re alone. You’re worthless. You’re a **monster.**_

At the end of the block, Abigail reached a small, locally-run flower shop with an array of lilies and roses perched tantalizingly by the front door.

Always a fan of nature – _God,_ she missed the woods – Abigail immediately drew toward it with several quick, even strides. With her hands outstretched, she cupped the nearest bloom and breathed in the fresh scent. It smelled like heaven compared to the sterile, overwhelming smells from the hospital.

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

She jerked, shooting upright and beholding Will’s wry, reassuring smile.

“It’s you,” she gasped, staggering back despite the recognition. “I…w-what are you doing here?” Fearful, she quickly added, “I swear I’m going back to Port Haven, I just…I-I needed-”

“Say no more,” he assured her. “If you want my inexpert opinion, I don’t think being cooped up in one place is healthy. You _need_ these sorts of outside stimuli.”

Abigail’s posture relaxed and she crossed her arms. “I never got to thank you, you know. Everyone else involved in my accident came around, but you never did. Not that I blame you… I hate hospitals.” _And you killed my dad._ She assumed that was the biggest reason why he hadn’t visited, but she had (mostly) forgiven him by now.

“I was actually going to stop by today,” Will lied. “In fact, I was just about to pick some of these out for you.”

“Really?” Skeptical and uncertain, Abigail shook her head and squirmed beneath his gaze. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Why not? Hospitals are drab and prison-like, so you might as well add a splash of color to lift your spirits.” Will nodded to the flowers. “Go ahead and pick something out.”

“Oh, um…w-well, I’ve always liked snapdragons.”

“Snapdragons it is then.”

Unable to help it, Abigail’s face lit up with a smile.

 

* * *

 

With the snapdragons in hand, Abigail followed Will through the streets with a lighter bounce to her step. “I hope you’re not being nice because you think you have to be,” she said. “I hate pity.”

Will smiled. “I can assure you, I’m only interested in getting to know you – the _real_ you, and not the girl the media likes to portray.”

Souring, Abigail lowered her gaze and brushed her fingers along the soft, vibrant flower petals. “I don’t care what they think.”

“And why should you?” he countered. “We don’t owe them any explanation.”

“We?”

“I’ve been a target, too.”

“Oh, right…Freddie Lounds.” Suddenly leery, Abigail added, “She says you’re crazy…that you’re able to think like insane men because you _are_ insane.”

Will cocked his head. “And do you believe that?”

“I don’t really know… This is my first time ever speaking to you.” With a ghost of a smile, she lowly teased, “But how crazy can you be? When I asked for snapdragons, you not only knew what they were, but where to find them. My father used to buy these for me…I had a little garden behind our house.”

 _I know,_ Will thought. He recalled peeking in through her bedroom window, nearly stepping on said flowers as she set about her nightly routine.

“Did you want me to drive you back? I’d hate for you to walk all that way.”

Abigail shrugged, appearing indifferent. “I like to walk.”

 _Alright, time for a different approach._ “How about some pie then? I know a great diner, and I have a feeling you don’t get treated too often.”

Arching a brow, Abigail’s mouth quirked slightly. “Make it a fudge brownie sundae, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Will grinned. _Gotcha._ “My car’s up this way, so it’s not much farther.”

Following his gaze, her smile slowly faded. “Why did you park in an alley?”

“Is that truly so odd?”

“I guess not…” Shrugging, she re-adjusted the flowers in her arms. “So where are we going? Someplace local?”

Allowing himself to fall a step behind her, Will remained oddly silent in his gait.

She turned her head. “Mr. Graham?”

All at once, he wrapped his strong arms around her neck and began to squeeze. Abigail cried out, but he was quick to clap a hand over her gasping mouth.

“Shh-shh,” he crooned, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’ll all be over soon.”

Abigail flailed and thrashed in his grip, but it wasn’t long before she sagged against him in defeat, unconscious and unmoving. The snapdragons laid forlornly scattered at their feet.

Now whistling a chipper tune, Will opened his trunk and lifted Abigail’s small, limp body into his arms, careful and almost _tender_ as he gently laid her inside and shut the lid.


	2. A Partnership

When Abigail awoke, her vision took a moment to adjust to the poor lighting, and her head began to pound. Rolling over in dizzy disorientation, she grimaced and pressed a palm to her forehead. What had happened? Where  _was_  she?

Blinking the fog from her eyes, she soon beheld a relatively small room with sparse furnishings. There was a large antique dresser in the corner with a lamp, and what appeared to be a neighboring bathroom – someone had  _planned_  for her arrival.

Feeling sick, Abigail slid off the bed and staggered for the door by the dresser, feeling a burst of hope when it opened without issue. Now taking in the sight of basement steps, she scaled them with grim, trembly determination, only stumbling every few steps as she ignored the pounding in her chest.

Once she reached the top, she pressed her ear to the door and listened. There was a low hum – perhaps a refrigerator, and the sound of animals (dogs?) chewing noisily.

Emboldened, Abigail slowly opened the door and peered through the slat. There, mere feet away, was a row of seven dogs feasting out of seven bowls. They were gleefully oblivious to her, so she took the opportunity to slowly sneak onto the main floor. That was when  _he_  appeared.

"Oh good, you're finally awake."

Crying out, Abigail staggered back and caught herself against a small end table, her teeth clenched and her heart pounding as she regarded him with wide, terrified eyes.

"Do you feel well-rested?"

"Fuck you."

Chuckling, Will shrugged and indicated the stove. "I was just making lunch. Are you hungry?"

Tasting bile, Abigail swallowed and gradually straightened. "Is this why you never came to visit? Because you…b-because you wanted to  _kidnap_  me?"

"I'm not kidnapping you," he evenly said. "We're cohabiting."

She laughed incredulously. "No, you  _definitely_  kidnapped me. And last time I checked, knocking someone out and abducting them was a criminal offense."

Will smiled. "Well so is murder, and yet here we are."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know about the girls."

"W-what? I…"

"Relax," Will said. "I don't intend to tell anyone, Abigail, just so long as we work together."

"Work  _together?_ What the hell are you-?"

"I've been watching you for a while now, and I think we're a perfect fit." Pulling out a kitchen chair for her, he indicated that she have a seat. "You were your father's partner, in a manner of speaking, and now that he's become  _out of commission_ , a new successor needs to take his place."

"The Copycat," Abigail whispered, her eyes wide. "You…?"

"Sit," Will commanded, and not kindly. "I would prefer that you be comfortable while we discuss this."

Knees failing her, Abigail sank into the offered chair and leaned away from him. With her father, she had always kept her head down and did as she was told for the sake of survival. Somehow, she couldn't imagine that working with Will. "What else do you know?" she weakly asked.

Brushing his fingers through her hair, Will smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You were trapped with him," he whispered. "Hobbs made you sit back as a participant observer – he never let you experience or  _feel_  the kills. He was greedy. He was  _selfish._  But  _I_  will never take that from you."

Abigail's eyes flew wide. "B-but I don't want that! I don't  _want_  to hurt anyone else!"

Tightening his hold on her shoulder, Will spun her chair around in a grating, graceless arc. He ducked down in front of her then, his eyes wild and his pupils blown. "Don't you  _lie_  to me," he hissed. "You seem to forget that I  _saw_  you, Abigail. I  _watched_  you help your father… He would use you as bait, and then all you got to do was share in the spoils. He never let  _you_  deliver that final death blow, and I could tell that it tore you up inside." Taking her hands, he ignored the molten tears in her eyes. "What do you want, Abigail?"

"I  _want_ to go  _home,"_  she choked.

"No," Will argued, shaking his head, "you want to be  _free._ Preparing corpses for food wasn't freedom – not whenever  _you_  hadn't been the one to deliver them." He looked up at her earnestly. "What I'm proposing is a  _real_  partnership, Abigail – one where we both share in the spoils equally."

Abigail was now openly weeping, her chest heaving in sharp, fitful spasms. "You're  _crazy._  You're…y-you're going to get caught, just like my dad!" Her brow pinched then in realization. "Did you…did you kill him on  _purpose?"_

Will stooped and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I  _freed_  you – I didn't do anything you didn't already desire."

Jerking her hands from his grasp, she sobbed just as the oven timer buzzed.

"Ah! Lunch is ready," Will declared, smiling as if they were merely having a friendly chat. Now rising to his feet, he went over and pulled a pot roast of sorts from the oven, leaving Abigail pale and shaking.

Was  _that…?_

"Are we going to eat them?"

Will glanced over his shoulder, arching a brow. "Eat  _them?_  Who?"

"The people you kill…"

"The people  _we_  kill will not be consumed, no. Not by us, anyway." Hefting the meat onto the counter, Will grabbed a knife and began to cut into the roast. "Despite my admiration for your father's work, I have never felt it necessary to consume anyone. My dogs, on the other hand…" Fondly, he nodded over toward the pack of canines, who were all now gnawing on bones.  _Human_ bones.

Catching sight of the smallest, most rambunctious dog dragging a skeletal  _hand_  across the room, a scream lodged in Abigail's throat that wouldn't quite escape. Her vision pitched, wavered, and then she collapsed heavily onto the floor, unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, so it's been quite a while since I continued this! And I'd honestly forgotten about this fic until I got a nice, lovely little review last month, and then it was like oh, people read this? Guess I'd better blow the dust off my notebook! lol I was going to include more scenes, but I figured I'd kept people waiting enough. This is the basic gist of this story, so poor Abigail is in for a bumpy ride. I hope you all enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to write an AU based off **this dark!Abigram fan vid I made:** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ln4jlRfD4d8 Keep in mind that it won't be EXACTLY like this, but the basic premise is the same. In this AU, Will has been watching Abigail prior to Hobbs' death, because he figured out who the Shrike was long before the Bureau did. That will be addressed in later chapters.
> 
> Anyway, this is going to be dark and more than likely disturbing, so I hope everyone is aware of that before continuing. I don't normally like dark AUs, but I guess I've exhausted all my happy/chipper ones by now. If you don't mind disturbing content, I hope you enjoy! :) Comments are love!


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